Je N'ai Pas De Mots
by imogensrocket
Summary: Nothing could ever say the way how they moved each other.


**Disclaimer: I own neither Degrassi, nor the song **_Je N'ai Pas De Mots_** by Vic Mignogna.**

* * *

**Author's Note: **To be perfectly honesty, this fic is all fluff. I was just inspired by this song because it's basically Beckdam to the very core, and even though I made a video, I also decided to turn it into a little fic just because. But seriously, this song is Beckdam, and you cuties need to look it up and listen to it. There is literally a whole verse in this song where it literally starts off as Adam and switches to Becky. And this is not just a "oh, this is Beckdam through Adam and Becky's pov", no, this is literally a song with both sides of their story and then the chorus it just joins them and you can thank my friend for reuniting me with this song.

* * *

"_It's good that I don't have to speak to know that it's real…"_

There was a lot Adam could say about love. For starters, he knew he'd never been in love. Not really.

He'd never have that feeling people talked about; butterflies, the consuming feeling of them, the want and desire to be there no matter how much it hurt. That feeling had been there, but it wasn't the pure kind. He'd wanted to love Fiona, because for the first time he'd found hope that there was someone to accept him. But like everything in his life, Fiona had ended up disappointing him. He was nothing more than something to use. _The best of both worlds_, as she'd put it.

It seemed that whenever something like the prospect of love would come his way there was always a catch. Even with Becky.

It'd killed him, hearing her say she couldn't choose him. They were going to make it through this dilemma together and she'd never even given them a fighting chance before she bailed.

There were missed calls on his phone, unanswered texts, emails, but he never bit. He was too hurt, far too angry with her to talk to her. He tried telling himself she wasn't worth it, that he could do far better than Becky Baker. That there was a girl who'd accept him and not cast him aside in some absolute choice.

He knew deep down it was a lie. There was only one person he wanted, and he was stupid to stay awake at night, imagining holding her hand, her hands on his neck as they kissed, her voice as it whispered sweet nothings in his ear, the way she smiled at him. Everything about her haunted him, adding only to his bitter resentment that caused him to delete the email, to look at her and cast her aside the way she'd done him.

How he wanted to feel powerful in that moment. To show her he'd won. That she had no hold on her, and that her choice had meant nothing to him, but it didn't. It was just another disappointment to add to his growing list.

The look on her face, the tears in her eyes as he'd told Missy she was no one had killed him. He wanted to smile, walk away proud for hurting her like she'd done him, and he couldn't even let himself have a small moment of victory.

It hadn't mattered, anyways. Missy had been using him, too. The universe had had the last laugh where he stood.

* * *

Before Adam, Becky had never considered life out of her little bubble.

People like Adam had never existed in her safe world. There had always been what was considered normal, and then there had been those outside of it who were never given a spared thought by her.

She'd tried so hard with the therapy. Each passing day she'd sit there, listening to story after story, only to come to the conclusion that she didn't need to be here, and that Adam had been right.

She loved Adam Torres, and he was a boy, no matter what anyone told her to the contrary.

He was the boy who'd seen her in distress and rescued her, had guessed her favorite scene in Romeo and Juliet, had let her be in the musical, given her a second chance, gave her a feeling of home. She loved him, and it didn't matter to her, because she knew that she'd fallen for him regardless of everything inside her telling her not to. Warning her of what she'd be risking, how she'd be disappointing her family and dating something they didn't approve of. But she couldn't bring herself to care anymore. The therapy had been the last straw, and she knew she'd made a mistake.

She knew it had been a mistake to take her parents offer when she'd been outside the door, seeing him at his locker. She had wanted to forget the promise she'd made to her parents and chose him… But of course, she couldn't bring herself to give up the things she'd thought meant the most to her – the things she thought had been the only things to really matter.

During her time at therapy, she'd sit there, reliving that moment over and over again. The weight of the words they'd exchanged crushing her to the point where she'd get up and leave, gasping for air, needing him.

She called him, and when that failed, she texted him. She was determined to not give up, so composing an email, she prayed he'd read it; to just hear her out for a final time before giving up on her.

He hadn't, of course. He'd deleted it like it was nothing… like _she _was nothing. And maybe she should have been to him, after everything she did, she didn't deserve him.

But god, she wanted him so bad. She wanted him, she needed him.

In all honesty, Becky had never had a serious boyfriend. She went on dates, and had a boyfriend before, but it was all just a formality. A trivial high school experience she'd look back on and tell her children about, and to have as a conversation piece. There was never any passion, nor had she been looking for it.

Adam had given her passion, though. He'd challenged her, and made her question things in her life to the point where it had terrified her, and despite everything inside her telling her to run away and forget about him, she couldn't. She was drawn to him like an ignorant moth to a flame, except she'd been the one to burn him.

She had had something she didn't even know she had been longing for fall into her lap, and at the first sign of fear she'd ran. She didn't deserve his forgiveness.

* * *

He compared his kiss with Missy to her. It was aggressive, passionate, but it wasn't right.

Becky's kisses were always soft, leaving him craving more. And her hands were always placed at his neck, and she'd sometimes trace patterns that he'd figured were little hearts. It was something so girly and ridiculous that he couldn't help but find it endearing that she'd do it.

Missy was rough and experienced, while Becky took the tiniest of steps. She probably never imagined shoving him into a wall, or being shoved there herself. She probably never imagined his hands roaming her like he let them with Missy. She'd probably break the kiss and lecture him…

Yes, Missy's kisses were much better than hers. Or at least, that's what he kept on telling himself.

She means nothing. She's no one. She's just another one of the many girls who didn't want you, let it go.

But he couldn't! It had ended up being so different this time, and it killed him. Why was Becky's rejection killing him? Why wasn't it easy for him to distract himself from the pain of what she did?

_Because you love her, you idiot!_ The little voice in his head screamed at him, but he scoffed. Love? How could he even love her?

But his mind already had a list of reason why he would love a girl like her, and that just made him feel bitter.

_I don't love her, _he told himself forcefully. _And I certainly don't need her._

* * *

She loved him. She loved him. _She loved him._

She looked at him as he stood at her door, wondering if he was a figment of her imagination. Maybe she'd finally gone crazy and was starting to hallucinate his forgiveness, but touching his hand, it was so real that it couldn't be something her mind created and her heart skipped a beat.

He was here, giving her another chance. Something she probably didn't deserve, but she wanted to be selfish just this once. She felt at home with him. She felt safe and complete, and the lonely feeling that embedded itself into her heart upon movie was gone. He made her genuinely happy, and she needed him, and maybe he needed her, too.

* * *

The place was covered in snow. Everything about it was pure and new, and somehow everything looked brighter than before.

She'd never seen snow, which Adam thought was sinful, and promising her to give her her very first _real _winter.

Wobbling, she tried to remained balanced on her ice skates, Adam holding her palms. She smiled weakly at him; feeling mildly embarrassed by her lack of balance considering her brother was a hockey player. But Becky had never been into skating.

Tripping over the tip of her skates, she collided into his chest, blushing as he helped her straighten. "Sorry," she murmured sheepishly.

He smiled, laughing. "It's fine. Practice does make perfect, and it's going to be a long winter."

"You just want me to freeze, don't you?" She teased, letting him guide her across the ice.

"As if I'd ever let you do that," he said, throwing her a charming smile.

Rolling her eyes, she bowed her head, smiling, letting him take the lead.

* * *

"Adam!" she screeched playfully as a snowball collided into her side. "Be careful," she scolded, patting her snowman tenderly, stepping back to admire her creation. "Isn't he beautiful?"

"Oh yes," he said solemnly. "He's the best snowman this country has ever seen, and all from a Floridian."

"It's all those sandcastles," she nodded her head, "it's turned me into the sculpture I am today."

Then picking up a pile of snow, she turned, grabbing the hood of his jacket, dumping the snow on his head. She ran, knowing he'd follow, and he grabbed her waist and they fell to the ground together, laughing and carrying on. Turning to him, their hair covered in snow, she touched his cheek, tracing it with her finger.

"Thanks," she said.

"For what?" he asked, his eyes clouded with confusion.

"This," she said, moving her hand between them, "You, me… us."

He smiled, leaning in and cupping her cheeks, kissing her softly. "I love you," he said, resting his forehead against hers.

"I love you, too."


End file.
